


As The Crow Flies

by Ramblingandpie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Fiction, Post-Apocalypse, Solarpunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramblingandpie/pseuds/Ramblingandpie
Summary: The ongoing adventures of Cheryl, a bike messenger in a post-apocalyptic world.





	1. As the Crow Flies

“Thirty miles as the crow flies,” Monty had said.

Yeah. Only thirty miles. Straight shot, through open territory. What an asshole.

Cheryl sat on the remains of a low wall, wiped the dust from the mouth of her canteen as best she could with the sleeve of her coverall, and took a swig. Most people she knew would be uncomfortable even being this exposed, but she didn’t see any crows nearby, which meant that there probably weren’t any predators. And whatever the message was, it was urgent. There would be a pretty good payday at the end, assuming that she didn’t end up being someone else’s dinner.

At least there was an old road to follow. Monty was known for sending his messengers to secret meeting places that required complex instructions. No, this was fairly simple. Follow Old Creek Road until she came to the green farmhouse in the next town, deliver the message, and they would take care of her and get her safely home on the next caravan that came by in a few days.

She opened the lunchcrusher on the back of her bike and deposited the canteen in her bag. The message was still in there, a rolled up piece of paper in an old film canister. Crazy that people used to throw those away. Waterproof, dustproof, and just the right size for a message.

It only took moments for her to do her last inspection on the bike. Tires inflated, chain engaged, brakes in order. She did one last check that her black braids were tucked up under her dust-covered cap, and she was off.

 _Thirty miles_ , she repeated in her head. _Thirty miles,_ while trying to ignore what came after. _As the crow flies._

As she rode, she saw a handful fly overhead headed South. They continued for a few minutes before circling something that must have been at least a mile away. Good. Stay there.

Monty had once told her that back before, the expression had a whole different meaning. All it meant was a straight line, because supposedly, that was how crows flew. Obviously, that was bullshit. Everyone knew crows never flew right from one place to another. They stopped wherever there was something they found interesting. Usually carrion. Or where something was about to become carrion. Crows flew in circles, and she knew that if they ever started circling over her, it was trouble.

No matter how many times she had done it, it was always strange to leave civilization and head out on the road. Any animals that came near town very quickly became food. All of the local bandit gangs knew better than to mess with the town militia. The red and gold bandanas, one tied to the epaulet of her coveralls and one over her mouth to protect from the dust, would protect her from some of the bandits who respected Monty’s militia, but not all of them. Some would be more brutal for it. If they found her, anyway.

 _Don’t dwell on it,_ she thought, as a crow flew overhead to join the others in the South.

It was a beautiful day for a ride. There were just enough clouds in the sky that the sun wasn’t beating down too hard, but not enough to threaten rain. A light cross breeze rustled the brown grasses across the plain. Though the old creek that Old Creek Road had been named for had dried up before she was born, and was simply a large divot carved to her right, a few small shrubs still managed to hang on. The hard-packed dirt road saw enough caravans come through that it was fairly well-maintained, which meant that she had to dodge piles of horse dung but not any shrapnel or even may potholes, and she should be able to stay on the bike the whole way.

The ride stayed pleasant for at least an hour until – oh. That was not a good bump, and that was not a good sound. The bike slowed to a crawl as the front tire made the dreaded thumping noise of having gone flat, only about five miles from town.

She stopped and hopped off the bike. It would not do to dwell, so she assessed as quickly as she could. Puncture. A new tube would set it right, and she had all of the equipment with her. The real question was where to go.

She could see a house up ahead. It clearly had been a farmhouse at one point, and it looked abandoned enough. No-one lived in any of these houses, with such little protection. Even the bandits and gangs wouldn’t stay in one house for long, since without actual fortification it was safer to stay on the move.

The crow that had passed by earlier was circling back around. Though her coveralls were the same color as the dusty landscape around her, it had no doubt marked her presence. Time to move.

She took the handlebars and hustled as fast as she could towards the house. As she glanced up towards the sky, it was clear that the crow had taken notice. If it started really paying attention, others were sure to join it. If others joined it, then other, larger creatures were sure to notice them and want to investigate what they had found.

She came to the picket fence around the house. It clearly had been painted white at some point, but only flecks of paint remained. The weather had seen to it that the wood was bleached a pale gray.

As she passed through the gate, the crow overhead let out a caw. Silently cursing, she hurried towards the house and tried the doorknob.

Locked.

That was no good.

Her first instinct was to try one of the windows, but a thought stopped her in her tracks. There was no reason for a house this far out to be locked unless someone was using it.

And then, there it was: the humming noise of hoof beats in the distance.

Horses were not subtle on the plains, so messengers by and large eschewed their use. The sounds their hooves made on the hard, packed-dirt ground would carry quite a distance. She had no way of knowing how far away the riders were, but knew that she had to hide, and quickly.

She grabbed the sack from the lunchcrusher and left the bike to search for cover. Being away from it caused her panic to rise, but there was nothing to be done.

There. A shed in the back, with no padlock on the door. She quickly poked her head inside to check. No occupants. She thanked her lucky stars that the ground was dry enough to not leave footprints, ran back to her bike, and ran with it back to the shed. There would be bruises on her shins for weeks from the pedals spinning at her, but it was better than being dead.

She shut the shed doors behind her. The sound of hooves was completely drowned out by the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

As a completely unfathomable number of minutes passed and her hearing slowly returned, she realized that there had to have been at least a handful of horses. They sounded more like a constant humming than individual beats. The humming grew louder. They were almost certainly headed towards the house.

She drew her club from the sack and looked around in dim light to find something that might work better as a weapon. A quick inventory turned up nothing. The shed had been fairly picked clean. As she took in her surroundings, she realized that was probably a good thing. They weren’t storing anything in the shed, so hopefully they wouldn’t come near it. It wasn’t tall enough to keep horses in it. She was not a tall girl, and her head almost hit the ceiling.

By the time she could hear voices, her breathing was back to a normal pace. She focused on it. If she made noise, she would surely be found. Whoever was out there would hopefully be about their business quickly and move along.

“I saw it come back here,” a man’s voice said, “and you know what that means.”

Another man sighed. “Look, Stan. Just ‘cuz a crow flies o’er the house, don’t mean nobody’s here.”

“But it could,” Stan insisted. “Why’d it circle back like that if ain’t nobody here? Ain’t nothin’ here a crow would want. Them birds is smart. Somebody’s been snoopin’.”

The other man sighed.

Cheryl’s breath caught in her throat. If Stan insisted on searching the place, there was no way they would simply pass by the shed. It was the obvious hiding spot.

“I swear I’mma roast that damn bird,” the other man said. He paused for a moment, spat on the ground, and continued. “What you waitin’ for? You wanna search, get searchin’. I’mma sit here to laugh at you like the fool you are when you done.”

Her mind raced trying to come up with solutions. Even if she could get the tire changed quietly, she didn’t think she could sneak past them. Horses were faster than bikes, so they would certainly catch up with her. She briefly thought about stealing one of the horses. It would depend on the horses themselves, and how open they would be to a strange rider. There was no way to tell.

Just when she thought maybe if she could get the bike fixed and manage to scare the horses away, that she might be able to escape with her life, Cheryl heard a rustling. There was suddenly less light in the shed.

She looked to the window, and there the crow stood, cocking its head at her like its presence wasn’t putting her in mortal danger.

She made a shooing motion with her hands.

The crow cocked its head the other way, looking at her as though she had invited it to tea.

“Shoo,” she whispered.

The crow took a step forward on the windowsill.

She tried combining the shoo-ing motions with whispering. “Go away.”

The crow hopped down from the windowsill onto a crate and started waddling towards her.

This was it. She was going to die.

She hoped that, when this was all done, they really did get their hands on the bird and roast it. Rumor was the crows always could tell apart a person who’d eaten crow, and would follow them like a plague. At least then all parties in her death would be punished.

“Ain’t got all day, Stan!” the man hollered from what must have been the far side of the house.

“Shut it!” Stan yelled back. He sounded like he was also still on the far side of the house.

Cheryl crouched down and started scooting backwards into the darkest corner of the shed. The crow walked after her.

She watched as it continued to stalk after her, and then hop up on an upturned empty crate next to her. It cocked its head menacingly.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

It pecked at her shoulder. She almost yelped in surprise, but caught herself just in time and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Caa-?” the crow said. It sounded like a question.

It pecked at her shoulder again.

“Ow!” she whispered.

The crow started hopping from one foot to the other like an impatient child.

It grabbed the handkerchief affixed to her shoulder and started tugging.

 _Seriously?_ She thought to herself. But if it would make the blasted bird go away, it was worth giving in.

“Okay, hold your horses.”

She reached up with her opposite hand and started undoing the knot that held the handkerchief to her epaulet.

“Stop helping,” she whispered to the crow as it kept reaching its beak around her fingers to pull at the handkerchief. Her words had no effect.

After several frantic moments, the handkerchief was free. Cheryl breathed a sigh of relief as the crow pulled it away, triumphant. It pranced around with it for a few steps before hopping towards the window.

There. One problem was done and dealt with. Now she could focus on her escape. She listened for movement from outside. It sounded like Stan might be in the house now, so she didn’t have much time.

She looked around the shed. It has mostly been picked clean. There were some broken hand tools in a corner. Those wouldn’t be much use. Empty crates were in the same category. It was when she saw the empty seed packets and some twine, and pondering if there could be any use for them, that the idea hit her.

Or, rather, the shout did.

“Stan! Stan, get’cher ass out here!”

“What?” came the reply.

“Stan! Monty’s gang!”

What? Cheryl knew if Monty was sending the militia out in the same direction as a messenger, she would know about it. Wouldn’t she?

“What?!” Stan shouted back.

“That damn crow’s got one o’ his bandanas! Musta been a scout ‘er somethin’.”

She almost laughed.

“Shit,” Stan replied.

“Jim’s half a day away. If we send up a flare, you think-“

Cheryl stopped listening and got to work. She gathered up the seed packets and placed them ever-so-carefully in the spokes of her back wheel. She set her right foot against the pedal of the bike, and wrapped the twine around both. She tied it loosely so that she could remove the twine quickly, but her foot would stay secured to the pedal.

She lay down on her back in the dirt to get the best angle. It was ludicrous to think that this would work, and the thought flashed through her head of what would happen if they found her like this. Not only would she certainly not live through the experience, but what a humiliating way to die. Well, one of the two groups was going to get a funny story out of this. She hoped it would be her.

She started working the pedal, slowly enough that it wouldn’t be too loud at first.

Once she found a rhythm and increased her pace, she started focusing on the conversation outside.

It wasn’t long before “Hear that?”

“What’s that?”

“Do you hear it?”

They were silent for a moment, listening intently, when Cheryl brought out her final weapon. She clapped her hands and then, in succession, slapped her left thigh, quietly at first and then increasing the volume. Her right leg didn’t stop with the pedal, making the seed packets hum.

“Shit, they’re comin’. We gotta go.”

“Jim’ll kill us if they raid while we’re supposed to be on watch.”

“Monty don’t mess around. We’re dead if we stay.”

Cheryl started slapping her thigh harder, increasing the volume.

After a few brief moments of grumbling and some more cussing, she heard the blessed sound of actual hoof beats.

She waited until they were faded in the distance before she stopped. She lay there, on the floor of the shed, one foot still propped up tied to the bike, until it really hit her what had just happened. The laughter followed, first as a chuckle and then growing. Her ribs ached from laughter, her thigh ached where there was certainly going to be a welt, and her shins were covered in bruises from running with the bike, but she was here. She was alive.

When the laughter left her, she lay in the cool dirt for a few moments. It couldn’t last, though. Back to work she went, untying her foot from the pedal, opening her pack to get her wrench and tire lever, and making quick work of removing the offending wheel. The well-worn tire lever popped the tire off, the tube was exchanged, and, when the wheel was reassembled, she filled it back up with air with a small portable pump.

She flipped the bike right-side up and re-strung the chain. Done. The seed packets were removed from the wheelspokes. She held them in her hands for a lingering moment. Her instinct was to leave them on the floor, but that didn’t feel right somehow. She tucked them into her sack.

She squinted in the sunlight as she left the shed. While she knew she shouldn’t stay, she couldn’t help but wonder what was so important in the house. She stashed her bike in the shed and made her way to the front house. Stan had left it unlocked in his haste.

She passed through the kitchen into what had clearly once been a living room. A faded couch covered the length of one wall, and across it were stacked dozens of crates, topped with dozens more sacks. Everything unlabeled. She opened the first crate and gasped. After a moment, she went down the line, tossing crate-tops on the floor behind her. If only there was a way for her to carry it all! The crates were packed full of water sanitation tablets and filtration devices.

Well, even if she couldn’t carry it all, she could at least carry some. She grabbed a sack and checked the contents. It was only half-full of portable filtration straws, so she stuffed in as many tablet packs as she could before sealing it shut. She grabbed a few bottles of the tablets and stuffed them in the pockets of her coveralls.

When the pack and her pockets could hold no more, she turned wistfully away from the room. The next caravan wasn’t due to come through for a few more days, and it wouldn’t be safe to come back this way once they realized what had happened. They must have a plan for moving the stash before the caravan came through, anyway, since caravans frequently stopped at abandoned houses.

She sighed. Still, though. She tossed the sack over her shoulder and secured the strap around herself. She would have enough to last her a lifetime even after trading some away. And, since she was used to riding with all sorts of messages and deliveries, the sack didn’t hamper her ride at all.

She was just thinking what a beautiful day it had turned out to be when the plains were interrupted by small groupings of trees. High up, something caught her eye: a glint of gold at the top of a tree, poking out of a nest. She smiled. Maybe the damn birds weren’t so bad, after all.


	2. Cheryl Meets a Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl delivers a message and encounters a witch.

It was nearing dusk as Cheryl approached the town. She passed a few other small houses before coming to the green farmhouse. In the distance, she could see the clustered buildings of the town.

The house she approached was large with a well-maintained fence. A goat was penned into the front yard, munching happily on the grass. Cheryl smiled. She might get milk or cheese tonight, if she was lucky.

A dog began to bark. She looked in the front window and saw a small ball of fuzz yapping in her direction. As she approached the gate, she could hear commotion in the house. She dismounted at the gate and leaned her bike against the fence. She also took off her dustcap and goggles, and dusted off the bandana around her mouth as best she could so that the red and gold were clearly visible. She saw a few faces peek out the window. Things seemed to settle in the house. Either she was expected, or the sight of a young teenage girl wasn’t going to frighten them.

An older woman came out of the front door and met her at the gate. Cheryl pulled the bandana down. “Hi. I’m Cheryl. I have a message.”

The older woman’s face warmed. “We’ve been expecting you. Come in. I’m Anna.” Anna had a plump, pale face riddled with smile-lines and a nest of soft curly blonde hair tucked under a scarf.

Anna unlatched the gate and gestured towards the door. “You can bring your bike around back to the shed. Don’t worry about the goat. She’s completely harmless.” Anna had clearly seen Cheryl’s skeptical look. Goat milk was delicious, but some goats could be mean.

Anna led Cheryl to the back yard, where the same fence continued around a large yard. Another goat and a kid were lazing in a pile of straw. There was a chicken coop, but no chickens to be seen, so they likely had already gone to roost for the night. The shed itself was a small barn. Anna opened it, and Cheryl heard whinnying. “Oh, hush, Sunshine. It’s just me,” Anna said.

There was plenty of space for her bike. Cheryl stowed it along one wall. “The barn is locked overnight, and your things should be safe. If anyone tried to come in, between Sunshine and Daisy, we’d know about it. And I’m a pretty good shot.”

“Thank you,” Cheryl said. She removed her pack from the bike. Even if the barn was reputedly safe, she wanted to keep her treasure nearby. “Oh! And here’s the message,” she said, pulling the film canister from her pocket. She held it towards Anna, who wrapped both hands around it.

“Thank you,” Anna said. “Have you eaten?”

Cheryl shook her head.

“We were just wrapping up, but there are some leftovers. Corn, beans, and squash sound good? With some milk to wash it down.”

It sounded amazing. Cheryl had packed a small snack for herself, but biking sure used a lot of energy. She nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great.”

Anna led her to the back door. It was getting dark, and lights were beginning to flicker from some of the windows. “I’ll get you set in the kitchen to eat, and by and by the family will be in to introduce themselves unless they’ve gone to bed. I have a guest bed set up for you, too. A real one.” Anna winked.

Cheryl sighed. A bed all to herself! She usually slept on a pallet on the floor of her shared apartment. And it looked like the house had electricity. She couldn’t see the roof to check for solar panels from where she stood, but in the distance she saw several windmills. It could be that the whole town was wired. Spending a few days away from home waiting for the caravan was sounding better and better.

By the time they got inside, a man in the kitchen had already prepared a plate. Daisy was dancing around his ankles. “Cheryl, meet my son, Julio. Julio, this is Cheryl, the messenger we’ve been waiting for.”

Julio nodded. He was much darker skinned than Anna. His skin tone was much closer to Cheryl’s. He was probably several years older than she. “I figured you would be hungry.” He set the plate on the table and went to the pantry. A whole ear of corn, and a generous helping each of beans and squash, all cooked on a grill. Cheryl took off her riding gloves and set them in her lap, eager to dig in.

“Get her a big glass of milk, too,” Anna said. “Growing bodies and all that.”

“Yes, Ma!” Julio called from the pantry. He returned shortly with a spoon and a large mason jar full of fresh milk. As soon as he set it down, Cheryl picked it up. She closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of it before taking a large sip. She set the glass down.

“That is delicious. Thank you so much, Anna, Julio,” she said, looking to each.

Anna laughed. “Well, the goat’s good for something, at least. Now eat. I’m going to go get ready for bed, and I’ll be back in a few to show you to your room. And get you something to wash up.” Cheryl looked down at her hands. They were still dusty despite the gloves. She knew that she probably had rings of dust around her eyes from her goggles.

Julio handed her a wet rag. “This should get you started, at least.”

“Thank you,” Cheryl said, wiping her hands off and then wiping her brow. It came away grimy. She folded the rag grime-side-in and set it on the table next to her plate before she began devouring her dinner.

By and by the family did come in. Anna’s husband Emilio did not speak much, but thanked Cheryl for coming and asked if she needed anything. She shook her head vigorously and reassured him that Anna was taking very good care of her. Grandma Esther had apparently already gone to bed, but Julio’s two older sisters stopped in. Alma was almost thirty and worked in town with a smith. Janie was in her early twenties and currently spending most of her time at home with her son, David, and helping Emilio with sewing. Anna mostly worked with the militia and ran the farm. David was asleep. Janie assured Cheryl that David would have plenty of questions in the morning and probably talk her ear off, and that it was completely okay to tell him to stop if she wanted.

Anna returned and whisked away the dishes. She shushed Cheryl’s offer to help, then led her up to the third floor of the house. By this time, it was dark, and Cheryl followed Anna by candlelight. She clutched her bag to her chest as they ascended.

“You’re the first door on the right. There is a bathroom further ahead. I’m sure you follow the same water rules as we do,” Anna said as she opened the bedroom door.

“If it’s yellow, let it mellow,” Cheryl chanted. It had been instilled in her since she was a small child.

“Good. Don’t drink from the tap, since it’s only partially filtered. Good enough to wash up, though. There’s a nightgown laid out on the bed. You’re a little smaller than Janie, but it’ll do. I also put a washcloth and towel on the dresser, and a glass of drinking water on the nightstand for you. Is there anything else you need?” Cheryl looked around the room. She could see at least two light quilts on the bed and a pillow.

Cheryl grinned. “Oh, no, I think I’m going to be just fine.”

***

In the morning, Cheryl woke up to the sound of a rooster crowing. She had a brief moment of panic at the unfamiliar surroundings, but quickly relaxed into the mattress. It had cooled off considerably at night. She was glad for the quilts.

After a few minutes, the sound of steps running up and down the hallway reached her ears. It was clear there would be no going back to sleep.

She had washed up before bed, so simply re-dressed in a clean coverall and underthings from her pack. She took the time to undo her twin braids, comb out her hair, and re-braid them. Since she didn’t anticipate biking today, she wore the bandana as a headband rather than over her face. She always liked how the gold of the bandana looked against her black hair and dark brown skin.

She debated carrying the pack with her, but reasoned that it would be a bit silly to be that attached to it. Plus, it might give away that she had something of value. That didn’t stop her from loading up her pockets with a few bottles of the purifying tablets and two straws, as well as her standard pocket fare of a bit of money and her multi-tool.

She wasn’t sure what the normal morning routine of the house was. At home, she would wash (if there was water), dress, and eat some leftovers. Usually stale bread and some jerky. Then she would head over to the Union House to see what the news was for the day. Since it was the only building with electricity, it held the radio where they got news from other towns and found out about what was going on around them. Monty or one of his boys was usually there fairly early with the odd jobs list for the day. Messenger jobs were her favorite, but it could be anything from helping with planting or a harvest to simple home repairs.

As she descended the stairs, she smelled breakfast. Her stomach growled. She walked into the kitchen to see Julio, apparently the resident cook, at the stove with a huge skillet and a big bowl of eggs.

“Good morning!” he said cheerily.

“Good morning,” she responded.

“Give me just a few minutes and we’ll get you woken up.” He spooned something gelatinous into the skillet, and then cracked a few eggs in. “Milk?”

“Please.” Though she had slept fantastically, she was finding herself having a hard time waking up. There was a part of her with a very strong desire to go back to that soft bed. She stifled a yawn.

Julio set a glass of milk at the table, and followed it shortly with a small plate that had a peach resting in the middle. She eagerly picked up the peach and began eating it.

Julio added some seasonings to the eggs as he pan-scrambled them.

“Is that bacon that I smell?” Cheryl asked.

“Just bacon fat. We don’t have any fresh bacon this morning, unfortunately. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It smells delicious.”

She had just finished the peach and set the pit on the edge of her plate when Julio walked over, carefully carrying the pan with a towel around his hand. He scooped a heap of eggs onto her plate. She dug in just as a little boy ran into the room and plopped himself down in the seat next to her. Her mouth was full of eggs just as he started with “Hi, I’m David! I’m six! What’s your name?”

She quickly chewed and swallowed. “Cheryl. Nice to meet you.”

Another bite of eggs was met with “How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” she said, again taking a moment to swallow her eggs first.

“Okay, David,” Julio said. “Let our guest eat. How many eggs for you this morning?”

“Two!”

Julio obediently cracked two eggs into the skillet.

David made a valiant effort to contain himself. “Can I show her my garden?” He turned to Cheryl and started explaining how he had a small bit of the farm just for himself to grow things and he was hoping his strawberries would grow in when Julio stopped him.

“I don’t know if you’ll have time this morning. Mom has errands in town.”

“I’ll stay with Gramma!”

“Gramma has to go into town, too.” He shot a quick look at Cheryl before looking intently back at his work.

“Great-Gramma?”

Julio shot David a look and shook his head.

“Nuts,” David said. “Can I stay with you?”

“No. Mom said she’s taking you with her. She has to go see the witch.”

At this, David let out a wail. He clearly had no desire to spend his time seeing the witch. Cheryl, however, perked up.

“Your town has a witch?” she asked.

“Yep,” said Julio. “One of the best.” He finally finished with David’s eggs and slid them onto his plate, which earned everyone a few minutes of calm.

Julio continued to explain. “She lived through the war, so she knows everything.”

Cheryl set her fork down at that. If their witch had lived through the war, she must be the oldest person that Cheryl might ever meet. The oldest person in Monty’s town was around 60, and he’d been just a baby when the war started.

“Can I go, too?” she asked. She hadn’t even thought of the question. It came flying out of her mouth like a reflex.

“I don’t see why not,” Julio said. “Anna and Janie are planning to go into town as soon as they’re ready. Besides, witches always love out-of-towners.”

Cheryl smiled and started shoveling the rest of her eggs. David, meanwhile, was eating his at a crawl.

“Don’t think Mom won’t make you leave an unfinished breakfast if you take too long,” Julio said.

As if on cue, Janie walked in. “Better believe it, baby,” she said. “You have two minutes, and then I expect you to be washing up.” David let out an audible groan but started in on his eggs and chugging his milk.

She was already clearly ready to go, and sat on David’s other side. Julio slid some eggs and a peach onto her plate. She turned to Cheryl. “Did Mom show you where the laundry is?” Cheryl shook her head. “If you put your clothes in it from yesterday, Dad’s doing a batch today so you can throw yours in. Heat like this, they’ll be dry by afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Cheryl said. She was used to having to just beat the dust off of her coveralls and washing her underthings in a bucket.

And in what seemed like no time at all, they were off.

Anna, Janie, and Cheryl all walked together, while David rode Sunshine. The horse also had a small cart full of things that they were bringing into town. From what Cheryl could guess, it looked like several sacks of food and clothing. It was only another mile into town, so it was a fairly quick walk. Janie seemed to be trying to get information from Anna about the message that Cheryl had delivered, but Anna was masterful at evading on that subject. Cheryl tried to listen in on their conversation as best she could while David told her all about his plans for his garden.

Who knew there was so much that went into the cultivation of strawberries? Cheryl had never lived on a farm, herself. Even though she frequently worked the fields in exchange for a part of the crop, she’d never really seen something grow from start to finish. David had been learning as much as he could about his strawberries, however, and was quite eager to share the information.

As they approached the town, Cheryl guessed it had to be at least three or four times the size of Monty’s Union Town. It sat in a bit of a depression in the otherwise flat earth, so she was able to get a good look at it. It looked like it had a proper town square with a large building that she guessed must be the Union Hall. Surrounding that were buildings that looked like businesses, with large signs out front. She could make out a barber’s pole and what looked like maybe a sign for a tavern. Towards the outskirts was more residential. There weren’t walls around the town like at home, but there were a few guard-towers. It was hard to tell if anyone was in them at the moment.

As she looked up, she saw a crow flying overhead. She watched it fly over the town and land on the roof of the Union Hall.

“Where does the witch live?” she asked to no-one in particular.

Anna seemed glad for a change of topic. “She’s on the main strip, a few buildings east of the square. We’ll be going there after a few errands, but if you’d like to run ahead, it’s the building with the red fence.”

Cheryl did kind of want to run ahead. But she also knew that following Anna and Janie would allow her to get to know the town better. If she was going to be here for a few days, it would be nice to have a better idea of the layout.

But as soon as they got into the town proper, Anna gave Janie a quick kiss on the forehead, blew a kiss to David, and said “I’m off. Have fun.” She was gone before Cheryl could register what happened.

“Militia business,” Janie explained. “She never tells any of us what’s going on.”

“Why not?”

“She says it’s better if we don’t know. It’s a pretty safe area, but she takes her role very seriously.”

Cheryl looked after the lane that Anna had disappeared into. It was hard for her to imagine that such a warm, loving woman could be one of the leaders in the militia, too. Back home, Monty ran things tightly, and while he would give a smile and a clap on the back for a job well done, he wasn’t affectionate the way that Anna was.

And with Anna suddenly gone, Cheryl changed her mind. She liked Janie okay. The idea of doing errands with Janie just wasn’t as appealing as doing errands with Anna. Anna, she was sure, would tell her all about the places that they were going. That just wasn’t Janie’s nature.

“Would you like help with your errands, or is it ok if I go explore?”

“Julio told me how eager you were to go meet the witch,” Janie said. “Go on ahead. If for whatever reason she’s not taking visitors, the Union Hall should have plenty to keep you busy until she is. Just stick to either of those places so we know where to find you, ok?”

Cheryl grinned. “Ok!”

She took off at a brisk walk towards the center of town. Even though it was early, Janie was right. People were going in and out of the Union Hall doors, either getting breakfast, picking up gigs for the day, or just going to see what was going on in town. As she passed one of the windows, she heard the distinct static of the radio with no news to report.

She passed the barber shop, whose doors were closed at the moment, and a general store that had to be at least twice as big as the one at home. She was tempted to stop in to see what they had in stock. There would be plenty of time for that later, though. For now, she had a witch to find.

The red fence stood out. It enclosed a small front yard and came right up to the edge of the road. The entire front lawn was a garden, with a stone path down the middle that led to the porch and front door. Cheryl recognized that the garden was almost entirely herbs. There were a few flowers in the mix, bordering the path.

And there, on a rocking chair, with a book in one hand and a gray cat on her lap, was the oldest woman that Cheryl had ever seen. She had brown, wrinkled skin, and silver hair piled in a neat bun on top of her head. She wore a simple black dress. She picked up a mug, took a sip, and then set it down and turned her page.

Cheryl wasn’t sure exactly what she was expecting the witch to look like, but somehow she seemed to look exactly as a witch ought.

The witch looked up at Cheryl and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for an anthology about crows, which did not get off the ground. I've been toying with the idea of writing more of Cheryl's adventures with the crow (because do you really think it's going to go away? Stubborn bird is stubborn.)


End file.
